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Loving the AlienThe Yare Valley is well known to me being positioned within easy
striking distance of the eastern suburbs of Norwich. There as a growing lad I,
together with my mates, regularly cycled its narrow windswept lanes throughout
the seasons seeing, smelling and tasting its wild delights. Its charm is a
subtle one, a gentle one, like so much of this Norfolk of ours. A shallow
rolling landscape affording wide open views over the long sloping valley which
gives way to a landscape of rich marshland bordering the slow moving river. It
takes a while to thoroughly appreciate its raw, sometimes bitter beauty, but
over the years its essence has penetrated deep, to my very soul in fact. If you could compare photographs of how it looked when I used to
gaze at it from the high point near Strumpshaw, taking a rest after a hard days
cycling, or when we arrived tired and hungry at Buckenham Halt after a full day
traipsing across the marshes you would probably say that it hasn't changed…

How cold can it get?
It was bitter at Cley today, so cold that even now some 5 hours after I said goodbye to the bleak winter-washed marshes I am struggling to get warm. Caught in Bishop's Hide when an evil looking cobalt-coloured curtain swept in from the west, I could do nothing but try and shore up the viewing hatches in a vain effort to prevent the horizontal squall soaking me and everything therein. I failed.

To cap it all I somehow managed to lose my footing whilst stepping over one of the logs in the car park after lunch. Whack! Down I went hard onto my left knee. Muddy trousers, now with a lovely tear in them lent an air of mild desparation to my rapidly deteriorating deameanour. After all a man has to have dress standards. To my complete surprise there was no pain, not even after I'd tramped around the reserve perimeter muttering various curses under my breath........at least not until I got home when the pain was literally crippling.

Praise for the EverydayIt's not all about
rare birds you know. I can't help thinking that the worth of a bird is too
often judged nowadays by its perceived rarity and that this is a big mistake.
The danger with this approach is that you risk overlooking the commonplace,
your birding bread and butter, in favour of some exotic creature that has lost
its way. Much like being led astray by some temptress who flutters her
eyelashes; it is but a temporary infatuation. The eyelashes, together with she
who sports them, will soon drift away to beguile some other admirer and leave
you bereft and forlorn. No, much better to stick to the stuff that made the
effort to charm you in the first place, look at it afresh and really appreciate
its value. Much more satisfying I feel.

Take the chap I bumped
into at Titchwell yesterday. Instead of taking delight in the wonderful birds
on show; the brilliance of the shoveler's head gloss, the red shock of the
bullfinch's breast, the ghostly, b…

I sometimes contribute to the Norfolk Wildlife Trust blog which
can be found here. Simply
scroll down the home page and click on the blog tab. There are some very
interesting articles here providing updates on the work of the Trust and their
aspirations for the shape of nature conservation in the county. Most of my bits
relate to days spent volunteering at Cley, but I reproduce below an account of
a trip to Ranworth in the heart of the wonderful Norfolk Broads I made a few days ago. You should go there if you can. A Mid-Winter Visit to RanworthA mid-winter visit to Ranworth seldom
disappoints and today it looked wonderful bathed as it was in the rich glow
from the low-angle on a January sun.First stop was to watch people feeding the ducks by the Staithe. Here
the mallards are joined by a flotilla of coots, a pair of cantankerous swans
and the ever present and watchful black headed gulls. These latter
opportunists, visitors from the Baltic perhaps, mug the local wildfowl of their
stale …

So this is my blog and you are most welcome. It's not going to be
a diary of mundane day by day events (Dear Diary: got up, did bugger all and
went to bed): no, the plan is to scribe on these pages my thoughts and
experiences of wildlife watching as I move sloth-like through my 59th year of
life. And maybe beyond. It won't be exclusively wildlife related; there will
hopefully be a richer tapestry here. We'll see. Perhaps a bit of background
would be in order. I quite enjoy writing, I think it is a trait shared by many
lovers of wild places and wild things. I first started putting pen to paper (a
real pen (remember those) to actual paper as opposed to finger to keyboard)
sometime during 1974. In those far off days of my late teens I scribbled a kind
of wildlife journal in large foolscap ledger books my father had somehow
procured (or more likely purloined) from the Post Office where he worked. My
first entry therein was an account of time spent trudging over the marshes
betw…

I live in Norfolk, I've always lived in Norfolk and will undoubtedly do so until this body of mine throws in the towel. I love wildlife and have done so since a very young age. Can't see that changing either. Having much time on my hands my aim now is to see as much wildlife as I can from as many places as I can afford to reach. The plan is to document some of my experiences and thoughts here for others to share.